


Dramione

by Belugalumps



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belugalumps/pseuds/Belugalumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco have a rather complicated relationship. Friends? Friendly enemies? Either way don't tell Potter or Ginger!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> So this used to just be a one shot (it was just Part II) and I'm still not sure if I'll add any more but whether you've already read the original or are starting it just now, enjoy! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (sadly) or its characters or Hogwarts or pretty much anything of any value!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco make a pact.

It was late and despite all Hermione talked, she did have her limits. Four hours spent in the library had deep fried her brain and all she needed was some sleep. Her arms felt like noodles from carrying her stack of textbooks.  
Then she heard the sobbing.  
And sobbing it indeed was. Crying would not have been loud enough to hear from an entire hallway away. It also would not sound that pathetic. She could hear the tears, broken up by gasps of breath and soft baby like hiccups. Hermione assumed it was Neville.  
“Malfoy?” The name slipped from her lips without a thought. She instantly regretted saying anything or ever even walking towards the Great Hall after seeing the look on his face.  
A moment ago he had seemed just a boy. All of the big talk had always given Draco Malfoy an air of superiority despite how much one might hate it. Hermione had always thought of it as kind of like that popular boy at muggle school that all of the girls liked and that she had tried to hate by principle but…he was just…well hot! Not that Draco was hot…Just that there was no denying…Ugh whatever.  
The small boy curled in on himself with pink cheeks from a moment ago disappeared as if magically at the sound of his name. Malfoy’s body stiffened and his cheeks turned sallow, eyes hollow sockets in his angular face.  
She stood a moment, her arms screaming in agony (she was still holding the books), just staring. For all of her brains, she didn’t have any clue what to do when confronted with a vulnerable Malfoy. She knew she should be angry- she had punched him for being a dick earlier just that day- but for some reason her frigid heart was melting. She tried to contain the drips but her emotions seemed to be oozing right through the cracks of her fingers.  
“Well?” Malfoy’s outburst seemed to knock her out of her reverie. “Go away!”  
Hermione started to leave but then she remembered the tears. They had turned his harsh features into a sort of marble fountain…Merlin, she hated herself and what she was about to do. She turned back to face him in all his fury. “Malfoy, are you okay?”  
He didn’t seem to know what to do. His dark eyes just stared at her from out of their caves. She noticed the handprint she had left from earlier for the first time.  
“I’m going to say this one…more…time.” He leaned forward on his bench, his hands pale claws grasping at the table. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”  
“You do realize that you’ve chosen the absolute most public place to have your meltdown?”  
“I’m not having a meltdown!”  
“You sorta are. I heard you from down the hall.”  
“I’m not….LEAVE!”  
“Well since you asked so nicely.” Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because she liked making him angry or if maybe just maybe she did actually care but either way she went and sat down across from him at the table.  
“I could stand up right now and leave,” he growled.  
She shrugged, setting down her books for the first time then taking a moment to admire the night sky above. The candles flickered and gave the hall an eerie glow. “Then why don’t you?”  
His claws tightened. “I hate you.”  
“And I hate you.”  
“Then why are you talking to me?”  
Hermione’s gaze fell from the ceiling to his face. His anger had started to subside, leaving his expression sort of empty. As if without his anger he was just a shell. Maybe that was exactly the case. Maybe that’s why she stayed. Maybe none of it was true and Hermione just had a lapse of insanity that night. Maybe not. Either way, they sat like that for a long while. Just looking at each other like they were looking into windows through to another world. One in which Hermione wasn’t a mudblood and Draco wasn’t the son of a Death Eater.  
Malfoy broke the silence. “You don’t act like this around Potter or Ginger.”  
“Like what?”  
“Sassy.”  
And she laughed. There it was. Draco Malfoy had made Hermione Granger genuinely laugh. He had called her sassy. It wasn’t a word often known to be in his vocabulary.  
“I…” Her smile fell and her eyes looked askance. “I’m sorry I hit you earlier.”  
“No you’re not.”  
Her forehead furrowed, eyes once again unafraid to bore into his. “Who are you to tell me whether or not I’m sorry?”  
“You’re not.”  
“Fine. You’re right. I’m not sorry for hitting you- you deserved it- but I am sorry that I made you cry.”  
“You didn’t make me cry.”  
“Then why were you crying?”  
He shook his head, blonde hair falling out of its usually slicked style. “I wasn’t crying.”  
“I can literally see the salt streaks on your face.”  
“No you can’t.”  
“Your nose is running. Unless you suddenly caught a cold you were crying.”  
With that he stood up and left.  
It was all so odd, by the time Hermione had finally summoned the strength to pick up her books and go to bed all of her confidence had left her. She felt like the whole conversation had been some sort of dream or a trick. It wasn’t until she got the note later that week that she even believed the night had happened.  
It said:  
We can’t be friends. Friendly enemies at best. See you when I see you.  
-Draco  
P.S. Don’t tell Potter or Ginger unless you want me to rip your face off.  
She smiled. Friendly enemies. She could agree to those conditions.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione flees the Yule ball in tears and is approached by someone unexpected.

Hermione fled the ball, her knees buckling as she reached the stairs. This was how Draco found her. Her tears had dried to salty rivers carving lines in her face, her shoes chucked into the dark hall.  
Slipping off his shoes, he sat beside her. The cold stone seeped through his robes and he wondered how she hadn’t caught hypothermia. Giving her his robes seemed far too romantic for his taste...  
“Ron is a bloody idiot,” she spat. Hermione knew it was Draco before she turned to look into his shadowy eyes, knew before he took a place beside her. He always smelled like spices. The scent was so muggle-like; she never had the heart to break it to him that his expensive wizard cologne was sold in the nearest drug store under the pseudonym ‘Old Spice’. Her father wore it.  
Draco scoffed at Hermione’s outburst, glancing at her furtively. “You’re preaching to the Ron hater’s choir, Granger.”  
“I was having a fine time at the dance until his fat head barged in and ruined it!”  
“Hermione,” her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name, “I think this situation calls for some insults above a G-rating. ‘Fat head’ cannot be the best you’ve got. You’ve called me worse, I’m sure.”  
“Probably.” A giggle diffused her fury. “Fine. Ron’s a sniveling little arse.”  
“I’ll bet his dick’s more shriveled than old Albus’.”  
“I’ll bet his stomach fat could feed the house elves for a month!”  
“Why do you even hang out with the ginger fuckface?”  
“Wow that was actually pretty harsh...I don’t know...who’s face is he fucking anyhow?” She smirked.  
“Potter’s?”  
They both began to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that fueled itself, their companionship egging each other on to laugh longer, harder, until their stomachs ached with the effort. Nothing they had said was particularly clever. They simply need a good chuckle after such a horrid night.  
“ Draco,” Hermione hiccupped, “Your face is so red! Maybe not as red as that time I slapped you but...”  
“I thought we agreed to never...!”  
“You had a bruise on your cheek for at least a week. Either I’m stronger than I thought, which is unlikely, or you’re softer than a peach! Man, were you livid!”  
“You slapped me!”  
“You deserved it! I didn’t even feel bad until I saw you blubbering all alone in the great hall...”  
“Liar...”  
“...bawled like a baby...”  
“ONE TEAR!”  
“...it was sort of adorable; your face got all squinchy...”  
Draco banged his hand on the step but he wasn’t really angry. He turned away to hide his smile. “I’m going to absolve the pact if you keep up this bullying!”  
“And ruin our friendship?”  
“Not friends...”  
“...but friendly enemies. I know. I know.”  
The moon slanted through a window above their heads, causing both Draco’s slicked hair and Hermione’s periwinkle dress to shine. They truly did look like friends, huddled on the stairs, speaking in confidence and comfort, as twilight dawned.  
Hermione began to rub one of her feet absentmindedly. “I should probably head to bed.”  
“But we don’t even have curfew”, his voice raised an octave as he spoke. Redness returned to his cheeks.  
“If we were friends and you weren’t such a baby you might be able to just ask me to stay.” Hope manifested itself in the shudder of her breath.  
He watched from the corner of his eye as she tucked a curl behind her ear. He imagined his fingers running through her wild locks...he made himself stop the thoughts. “ I just think that you can’t possibly go to bed without a proper dance.“ Standing with trembling knees, he held out a hand and hoped to Merlin she wouldn’t feel the sweat gathering in the folds of his palm.  
“I danced with Krum.”  
“A dance where your partner is an actual man and not ground meat shaped like a man.”  
She couldn’t argue with that.  
Their bodies glided down the hall, closer than they had ever been. Her dress swept across the cold stone; his feet collided with hers but she didn’t seem to mind. For the first time, Hermione recognized the mint on his breath. His eyes became transfixed on the specks of light in her irises. He wondered if Weasley had ever stopped to admire them. So they danced.  
As soon as twirling in silence became more sensual than spontaneous, Malfoy stopped and leaned in, his hands stilling her. The kiss was not long but it remained on their lips until the next moment they were able to spare for their little love affair. Between homework and Potter, the moments seemed few and far between. Their romance was just as short lived and pure as that first kiss. It can only be so long before friendly enemies become simply enemies. However, that same fluttering feeling that lived in the heart of Draco Malfoy the night he danced with his foe under the stars never left. Not when they met eyes at the train station as adults, smoke clouding his view of her aged yet still delicately beautiful face. Not when she died and he was not invited to say goodbye. Even then he hoped there were no meddling gingers when he joined her in the afterlife.


End file.
